2 AM
by vivevoce
Summary: Wally is in college. Roy has an apartment. For economic purposes, Wally decides to share Roy's apartment. To save on money, of course. Roy can believe that.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: originally written for the yj_anon meme on livejournal. I thought I'd post it here too. The prompt was that Roy and Wally share an apartment. Wally's in college.

_I do not own Young Justice or DC Comics._

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><p><strong><em>2 AM<br>_**

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><p><strong><em>I.<br>_**

**_How to Live Like a Frazzled College Superhero_**

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><p>"… <em>transduction<em>… requires the presence of a virus as a vector… transfers smaller sections of DNA from one bacterium to—_HEY_!" Wally snatches off the t-shirt thrown over his head, and whirls around to lob it at Roy. Roy catches it out of the air with one hand. "I have a final to study for over here!"

"Well, I'm holding that coffee you wanted and you're sitting on the remote." Roy more or less falls back onto the couch, head landing _right_ on the notes Wally is in the process of highlighting. He tosses his keys onto the second-hand coffee table.

"I'll draw neon dicks on your face if you don't move," Wally says unaffectedly, before taking his coffee from Roy and sipping. He makes a face. "Needs more sugar."

"My apologies, princess."

Wally sighs and pushes Roy upright.

"Roy. _Roy_. Hey, listen. I just need to get through the next _twenty four hours_. I cannot do that if you are _constantly trying to seduce me._"

"Who says I'm trying to seduce anybody?" Roy says indignantly.

"You took your shirt off for no reason."

"It's hot."

"It's the middle of winter."

"Well I'm not," Roy says, flicking him in the forehead. "And you need to relax. You're a science genius already, why would you need to study this shit?"

"Oh for the love of Christ, Roy. SYMPATHIZE with me. Remember what it was like when you were my age."

"I'd rather not."

"See? _See the stress I am dealing with? _I already put off patrol with the League three nights in a row; and just because I reproduced my uncle's experiment doesn't automatically mean that I'm going to pass this stupid exam because it's asking me to model DNA replication and I _don'tknowwhereOkazakifragmentsgo—_"

"Oh yeah. Talk nerdy to me, baby," Roy deadpans, before addressing himself in the third person. "Roy, this is what you have to look forward to in bed tonight."

Wally runs a hand down his face, trying to relieve the eye strain. "You're hilarious."

"Are you even planning to eat dinner?" Roy asks skeptically, eying the already empty Starbucks cup. He'd splurged on a trenta, too. Damn.

Wally's lips quirk up, and he peers at him through the gaps of his fingers. "What's for dinner?"

"Cup ramen. Like every other night. Unless you want to get fancy and slice hotdogs in it."

"You're so romantic," Wally sighs, as Roy kisses the purple skin under his eyes.

"You're pale," Roy comments, and that's the closest Wally knows he'll come to admitting he's concerned. "And you reek."

"Thanks," Wally says dryly, before jumping as he feels Roy's teeth snag, sharp and teasing against his earlobe.

"We should shower together," Roy says pleasantly, the _bastard. _"You have twenty minutes."

Wally is about to protest when Roy finds that _spot_ (not just any spot, but _the _spot_) _on the nape of his neck, and starts slowly kneading his shoulders and really? _Fuck DNA replication_. Wally happily snaps, and Roy is unprepared for the sudden materialization of shower tiles against his back.

"Ooof," Roy intelligently goes, before realizing that Wally is standing there, and he's taking his shirt off, and huh, there go the jeans—

The showerhead comes on, and it's _holyshit_freezing before it starts heating up.

"Make it fast," Wally grins, sliding the shower curtains closed behind him. Because purple-eyed, exhausted or not, he always makes time for Roy, and Roy? Roy can appreciate that. He gets some shampoo and strokes the damp hair back from Wally's face.

"Sure thing, babe."

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><p>AN: How could you tell I was venting my frustrations from my AP Bio exam? Translation and transcription,_ say whut? _

On a lighter note, writing this was fun, so I actually want to continue. In case you didn't already gather as much from the title, each of these little episodes details a snippet of their lives at the same time every night. Having not been to college yet, I'll have to take my best guess. Anyone who's actually in the process of going through college though, I'd love to hear a few insights (:

See you soon.

Read and review!

vivevoce


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Back and ready to rock. A little tired and lackluster, but that's just finals week talking.

_I do not own Young Justice or DC Comics_

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><p><strong>2 am<strong>

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><p><strong>II.<strong>

**Blood in the Carpet**

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><p>"<em>OUCH<em>."

"Hold still," Wally says slowly, as he dabs the cuts across Roy's back with antiseptic. Roy reigns in the darker of his curses as Wally tosses the rest of their cotton-ball supply into the waste basket. There's a small mound of scarlet puffballs, slowly building up. He needs to be more careful.

"So you were saying?" Wally asks conversationally. He sounds deceptively calm, but the medical tape makes a loud _riiiip_ as he tears it sharply from the roll. "Something about how you fell three stories onto a car?"

"Through the windshield," Roy corrects roughly.

Wally gives him a look that manages to look both deeply unimpressed _and _subconsciously channel Black Canary. Or one Iris West, come to think of it. The look that woman gave Roy when Wally brought him home to meet the folks…

Barry Allen was one brave man.

"Uh huh."

Wally starts winding the gauze around Roy's chest, pausing every few seconds to tell him to raise his arms. After a minute he tightens the bandages like a corset's strings and Roy chokes.

"All better. You need a Tylenol?"

"I wasn't aware we were married," Roy wheezes as he accepts the two pills. "You mind reigning in that passive-aggressiveness a little?"

Famous Last Words. Wally smiles flirtatiously.

"Hey, looks like I didn't get your head, Mister Red Arrow." Roy pales, as Wally's thumb strokes away a stream of dried blood from his eye that he's completely forgotten about. The stuff's all matted into his hair too. Shit. "Guess I better go grab that Neosporin again."

"Tell me we bought the kind that doesn't sting."

"You threw yourself out a fucking building, Roy. I think you can handle the Big Kid's Spray."

"It wasn't like it was intentional."

"Dude, cut the bullshit," Wally huffs. His hand's a bit gentler than his tone would suggest, as it wipes away the blood. "I have the same job you do. I usually try to inflict _less_ damage on myself than the pretty, homicidal girl chasing after me."

"Gunshot wounds versus glass cuts, Wally," Roy mutters. "Take your pick here."

"Notice how I've been pulling glass, and not bullets out of you."

"There's a good reason for that."

"Yeah, Cheshire's a lousy shot."

Wally pauses. All at once, the sharpness drains out of him, and he somehow manages to clean the cut above Roy's eye without actually _meeting _Roy's eye.

Oh damn. Damn, damn, _damn. Think of something to say, Harper._

"I'll borrow Robin's grappling hook next time or something," he says weakly. Wally's hand stops at his eyebrow. "She's… I won't let her get to me next time. Alright?"

Wally looks skeptical, as he finishes cleaning the blood out of Roy's hair and applies the butterfly bandage.

"If her idea of _toying_ with you gets you to voluntarily jump out a window…" He raises an eyebrow. "What exactly did she say?" Wally asks casually.

"Nothing important."

"Uh huh."

"Honest. Now quit looking at me like that, it's creeping me out."

"Suit yourself. Not gonna pry." And with that, Wally whooshes away from the bed to clear the supplies away. Within seconds, he zips back and buries himself under the covers on the other side of the bed. Roy army-crawls over the covers, wincing at the stabs of pain in his back.

"What?" Wally says as Roy repeatedly shoves at his shoulder. Eventually Roy succeeds in rolling him onto his side. Wally's mint-green eyes regard him coolly.

"You didn't even kiss it better," Roy tries seductively, only half-joking as he drops down onto one shoulder. Wally smiles and rolls back over without saying anything. "Wally? Hey. Baby, talk to me."

"Hey, Hotshot. Be happy I'm still sleeping in the same bed as you." There may have been a bit of affection hiding underneath that petulance. Roy's relieved enough that he takes the stupid nickname without comment.

"There's only one bed, though," Roy says as he settles down.

Wally raises his head just enough to glance at Roy over his shoulder.

"We own a couch."

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><p>AN: I don't think I could pull off the whole part-time student/full-time hero thing quite the way these two can. Moonlighting as a hero and school/work in the daytime? Pass. Holy hell, that is not happening. I'd need to be hooked to a permanent coffee-IV. I'd come out so bruised, I'd look like a battered wife.

That being said, running into Cheshire isn't _quite_ as awkward as meeting the Ex. But try telling that to Wally. Oh Roy. You poor baby.

::

Sarcastic Wally likes it when you review. It helps to tame his jealousy (;

- vivevoce


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Listening to the song while reading may or may not enhance your experience. I highly suggest it, as it's a good song. But I'm biased.

_I do not own Young Justice or Sleeping Lessons by the Shins_

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><p><strong>2 AM<strong>

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><p><strong>III.<strong>

**Sleeping Lessons  
><strong>

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><p>Wally talks in his sleep.<p>

Sometimes it's cute, and sometimes it's irritating, but most of the time it's soothing. He reminds Roy of those white noise CDs Dinah's forever telling him to listen to. _Relieves the senses_, she'd say before ruffling his hair like he's fourteen and grinning wickedly. Roy ignores her, because whales singing and birds crooning don't do anything for his peace of mind. He misses Dinah sometimes, but he's gotten used to loneliness since he turned nineteen. It's less lonely on nights like these, now that Wally's moved in and the apartment is filled with the quiet hum of kitchen appliances and Wally's murmurs from random little corners.

Because when Wally falls asleep, it's rarely ever in a bed.

::

Sometimes he's stressed, and Roy will stumble over him while he's asleep on the carpet, head pillowed on top of a textbook. The words come out as mathematical theorems or cell life cycles, muffled by his cheek mashed into the pages.

(_mitosis, meiosis, the derivative of…)_

Sometimes he sleepily memorizes Rilke in his sleep, or Akhmatova. Once, Roy was sitting next to him on the couch sorting through bills, when he heard _"I gave m'self to him… 'nd took himself for… pay…"_ as Wally's head slowly dropped against his shoulder. He'd grinned. Dickinson, not bad.

Sometimes he wakes up, and looks at him sleepily from wherever he is (at the kitchen table, on the floor, next to his laptop) wondering how Roy's still awake. He'll throw his arms around Roy's waist in defeat then, and childishly refuse to let go until Roy got him into bed. And not in the fun way, either, Roy will huff as he throws a pillow to muffle Wally's snores.

Sometimes he'll toss and turn, and whimper _no-no-no_ and Roy will know that something went wrong that day; a child didn't get saved in time, a train crashed that he couldn't stop, guns, bio-warfare, something, and he'll know to shake him back to consciousness.

Sometimes he'll say little nonsense words in his sleep, like he's dreaming nonsense dreams and Roy'll get treated to "_Get the hell away ninjas_" and "_Don't eat the wild octopus"._

Sometimes…

Sometimes Roy hears his name. And he'll look over to wherever Wally is lying, thinking he's awake. But his eyes will still be closed and he'll be smiling.

In the mornings he won't really remember what he said. In the mornings, Roy gets treated to an unholy chorus of beeps from his alarm clock and a muttered "shit I'm late" as a gust of air signals his dash into the bathroom. In the mornings, Wally is always in a proper bed, next to a proper bedmate. A bedmate that buries his head under the covers, because his job doesn't require him to get up before nine.

But that's alright. That's alright, because Roy has an unbelievable amount of blackmail material to hold over his head when he gets home. Not that it'll do much good though, because Wally? Sometimes Wally's awake.

Roy just doesn't realize it.

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><p>AN: I'm in a pretty jazzy mood today.

I don't sleep talk, but my dad does. It's pretty funny, because he's the only parent I know who can actually lecture me in his sleep. Pretty lucidly, too, because he doesn't slur. So when I hear "Why did you let it burn!" at midnight, I automatically ignore it. Until he actually comes in, of course.

Short and vignette-y, but I hoped the taste lingered long enough to satisfy.

Love to hear from you.

vivevoce


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: How weird, I'm usually never this consistent an updater. Ah well. Thank the magic plot-pixies, nibbling on my frontal lobe. Ouch.

_I do not own Young Justice_

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><p><strong>2 AM<strong>

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><p><strong>IV.<strong>

**In Which No One Wants to Fetch the Midnight Snacks**

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><p>"<em>Honey<em>…" Wally whines, crossing his legs atop of Roy's lap. "I'm _huuuuungry_…"

Wally, who unfortunately has the spectacular legs and ass of Olympic champs, and Roy, who has the willpower of a tumbleweed when it comes to anything regarding them, pauses in his reading.

"Darling," Roy mocks, setting the _Sports _section down on top of his legs. "You're always hungry."

Wally doesn't blink an eye, throwing on more endearments.

"Get me something?" He smiles winningly, setting his chin against his hand and leaning forward. "Please, snookums?"

"Okay, one? Oh my _god,_ what the fuck. Never call me that again. Two, the kitchen is literally four steps that way."

"But you're closer."

He crosses his ankles and reacquaints Roy with sculpted calves and lean thighs. And smiles. Damn freckles. Roy sits himself up, with as much composure as possible. Fine, two could play at this game.

"But baby, I'm tired from getting chased by security guards all this afternoon. Can't it wait?" To achieve maximum effectiveness, Roy tilts his head woefully to the side as he talks.

Wally doesn't budge. Maybe nudges Roy's side with his toes a little.

"Please, boo?" He sighs for added effect. "I just got through two god-awful essays last night and a lab full of screw-up partners this morning. And then _the Rogues_ started making trouble, and a bank got _robbed_ on my way home…"

"Man, did I tell you about how I almost got rear-ended twice today on the freeway? What a clusterfuck. And I saw this guy trying to throw himself off a _fire escape _on my way home. Something about losing all his shares, _good-bye cruel world_…"

"Did you save him?"

"Ran all the way up eight flights of stairs." And Roy sinks down on the couch, slouching in a way that he's fully aware Wally finds irresistible. "So… my feet are tired."

Wally looks impassive.

"Oh, that's a shame."

"Uh huh."

There is a stalemate in which both consider the other carefully, trying to scrounge up more excuses.

"I couldn't find my keys this morning."

"I was late for the subway."

"I stepped in gum. I loved those shoes."

"A dog ran into my legs and I almost face planted down a flight of stairs."

"This woman cut me off on Wilson Ave."

"The library didn't have the book I needed for reference."

"Kurt Cobain died."

"… Roy, that happened a decade ago."

"I know. I'm still getting over it."

"Well," and Roy can't recall when it happened, but somehow Wally's situated in his lap and he's brushing the backs of his knuckles against Roy's cheekbone. "I'm still tired from last night…"

Play dumb, Roy.

"What were we doing last night, again?"

And Wally shoots him this look which essentially says 'You're kidding, right?' before Wally's breath is warming the shell of his ear as he whispers, "I think some ice-cream can jog my memory... hm, stud? I'm sure I can give you a refresher if you… really don't remember."

The sheer ridiculousness of Wally's words still doesn't negate the fact that Roy can feel all blood draining from his brain and rushing south.

"Wally, did you ever consider becoming a phone-sex operator? Because I swear…"

"Only where you're concerned, babe." He happily kisses his cheek. "Rocky-Road. We finished all the Cherry Garcia."

Roy sighs as long-sufferingly as is possible to sigh, whilst some redheaded babe is seated in his lap. He then promptly shoves Wally off and goes to grab two spoons.

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><p>AN: Been catching up with Friends lately (a decade behind everybody else) as you can probably tell from the way this came out. Chandler and Monica are too funny.

That being said, I love hilariously stupid pet-names. Was considering using doll, pumpkin, hunny-bear, baby-cakes and stud-muffin. I then promptly deemed it far too absurd, even for my sense of humor. Troll-tastic and lazy as those boys may be.

I had a lot of fun writing this one (all in one sitting, can you believe it?).

Review if it made you laugh.

vivevoce


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I'm alive! The school work and family duties never end, but I will prevail. Enjoy this obligatory chapter of drunken college fun in their lives.

_I do not own Young Justice, or the works of any artists mentioned below._

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><p><strong>2 AM<strong>

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><p><strong>V. <strong>

**Take My Keys  
><strong>

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><p>"<em>Cmon<em>, sing it with me! I swear I'll do it if you do. You know you want to."

"For the last time, _shut up_ Wally," Artemis giggles over her highball. _Giggles. _How many of those has she had now? Wally's lips curl in amusement as he leans farther forward. It's a good thing she can pass for twenty-one, because he's pretty sure those guys at the bar have been giving him looks since he walked in. It's probably because of his freckles, but Wally can't bring himself to care too much. If any of them have an objection, Conner's presence is enough for them to go back nursing their drinks.

It's been a while since these little reunions. Wally is currently sitting wedged between Megan and Roy, trying to coax Artemis into a rousing performance of _Don't Stop Me Now_. He's on his third beer, and life? Life is pretty good. Even though they're disbanded nowadays, with Conner, Dick and Megan on Teen Titans, and Wally, Artemis and Kaldur working exclusively with their mentors, they still make a point to get together about once a month. This place is their usual hang-out. Small, but with impressively seasoned fries and karaoke on Tuesdays.

Dick is munching on some onion rings, and gives Artemis a push under the table.

"Dude, the mike's open. Get on with it."

"Cmon, Artie!"

Artemis looks at them all askance, shaking her head. Kaldur wipes barbeque sauce from the corners of his mouth, unfalteringly polite, and gives his two cents.

"You will never meet any of these people again, Artemis," he says matter-of-factly. "And it has been a long time since any of us have sang." He smiles. "I recall that Robin still holds the record for best performance."

"Damn straight. Third month running."

"I can do it if she's too chicken to," Roy smirks at her, arm thrown casually over the back of their booth. "Freddy Mercury would be ashamed of you, Crock."

"Don't pretend you know music, Harper," Artemis jibes back without blinking. "I think _Sex on Fire _and _Lithium _are the only songs here you know."

"_I like it, I'm not gonna crack," _Roy rasps, before narrowing his eyes smugly at her. "Not my fault the selection here's all over the damn place. They have Rihanna for God's sake."

"Oh, I'd pay _big_ money to see you up there wiggling your ass to _Rude Boy._"

"Oh cmon, Artemis, just do it! I think it's a great idea," Megan chirps in, slurping the last of her strawberry shake before pushing the glass away with relish. "Conner and I will go after if you do."

"We will?" Conner's smile is wry at having been volunteered. The two are on surprisingly good terms for being exes. Megan laughs and throws her arms around him good-naturedly.

"Hello, Conner! They have David Bowie! It'll be fun! Just don't tell Cassie."

"Like she cares."

::

Two more drinks later.

::

"—I'm _burning through the skies, yeah_! Two hundred degrees that's why they call me Mister _Fahrenhe-e-eit! _I'm trav'ling at the speed of light!"

"I wanna make a _SUPERSONIC WOMAN OF YOU_! God, Wally, slow down!"

"How many drinks did they have again?" Roy wheezes, crossing his feet on Wally's vacated seat.

"I don't know but this is the best blackmail recording I've gotten of them in ages."

"Should we stop them?" Megan asks, as Wally stumbles over Artemis's boots, flailing an arm around her before they both take the mike down with them.

Robin's smile is wicked. "Now, why would we want to do that? We haven't even hit Lady Gaga yet."

Kaldur calmly pops a jumbo shrimp into his mouth and smiles.

"I requested Destiny's Child for them."

"Kal, you _sly dog_."

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><p>AN:

Don't Stop Me Now is, and forever will be, my drunken anthem. Just sayin'.

Hey guys (: Miss me? I missed me too. Junior year sucks.

Writing this was a very welcome distraction. At first, though, I tried to write a chapter in which Wally was at a college house party, fratting it up with beer pong and everything. But it came out sounding pretty forced. Draft B consisted of me pondering the merits of clubbing/raving, but I dismissed it, upon realizing that A) it would require experience/knowledge of, well. Drugs and raves. And B) what merits?

I guess it wasn't really something I could see him doing.

Eventually it dawned on me that one didn't have to be high/puking/grinding to have a good time. 0.005 milliseconds later, I remembered I hadn't mentioned the other guys at all.

So voila! Underage drinking night with tons of shitfaced karaoke. This is what college kids do, right?

Right.

I will be the tamest college kid ever.

Just so there's no copyright infringement (_looking at you, SOPA, ruiner of lives),_ the songs and their artists I used were respectively:

_Don't Stop Me Now _by Queen | _Sex on Fire _by Kings of Leon | _Lithium _by Nirvana | _Rude Boy _by Rihanna

Read and review! (:


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Helloooo, Spring Break! God how I've needed you. And hello everyone again (: I'd like to take this time to thank any and all who have reviewed, favorited, or story alerted 2 AM. Special thanks goes out to Konyi, Skylark Evanson, Zewy and QuEen0fs0ng for their almost unfailing reviews. I'm sorry if I don't reply to each one; but know that you guys are awesome and hearing from you makes my day. Thanks again!

This chapter is longer than usual, and not set in the present time. Specifically, before Wally and Roy are in a relationship.

I do enjoy flashbacks.

Let's roll.

_I do not own Young Justice._

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><p><strong>2 AM<strong>

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><p><strong>VI. <strong>

**we're just tripping along  
><strong>

* * *

><p><em>::<em>

_twelve months prior_

_::  
><em>

* * *

><p>"Well, that's the last of them," Wally says as he plops down his cardboard box. It falls onto the carpet with a heavy <strong>thump<strong> that makes Roy stare at him askance.

"Wasn't that marked _fragile_?"

"Oh." Wally quickly tears off the duct tape and opens it to make sure. "Okay, no_, _it's still good."

Roy rolls his eyes as he stuffs the last of Wally's clothes into the spare drawer he cleared out this morning. He holds up a black button-up flannel. Roy smiles. "I could've sworn this was mine."

"Oh… Yeah, I kept meaning to get that back to you." _Don't blush Wally, don't blush, don't blu—_

"Why are you blushing?"

_Damn it._

"No reason," Wally mutters as he adds a few ceramic Bruins mugs and assorted bowls into Roy's cupboard. Wally hates karma sometimes. He's pale, he's a redhead, these things don't work out for him. Normally, he's able to laugh off blushes before they start, but around Roy… For some reason that trick doesn't work, around Roy. He feels himself slowly working past pink into fuchsia, before he remembers that there really isn't anything to be embarrassed about. "Your apartment's just hot."

"I forget how you even have this," Roy says as he absently folds it away.

"That time I slept over after the last alien hostile takeover, remember?" Wally, who had been gearing himself for merciless teasing, finds himself slightly at a loss at Roy's nonchalance. Ill at ease, he opens the fridge, counting on an easy distraction. Finding nothing but a bottle of ketchup and two beers inside, he closes it.

"We're gonna need to hit up Costco," he announces at large. Focus on mundane things, Wally. Cmon, it's working. "Do you even remember to eat, Roy?" Teasing; always a good distraction.

"Finished off the takeout yesterday," Roy shrugs as he comes back into the room. "And huh. You sure it wasn't the freeze ray that iced over half the city?" He's still talking about the shirt.

"Pretty sure. That was the month before."

"Your memory's better than mine, kid." He comes up from behind him suddenly and opens the fridge. Oh good, the cold air will probably neutralize the heat in Wally's face.

Wally groans a little in his head.

Why is he so obvious?

"Guess you're right," Roy says, oblivious, as he shuts the fridge and runs his finger down the many menus magnetized to the back of the door. "Well, _mi casa es su casa—_starting today, anyway. We should celebrate." He ponders the prices. "What sounds good, Chinese or Italian?"

"Oh, dude, you don't have to order in." Wally fidgets self-consciously, trying his hardest not to make any unnecessary contact. "I'm just happy you're letting me room with you. Dorms cost a fortune."

"Oh. It's no trouble." And the slow way he says it is what makes Wally suddenly aware that there's a hand resting on his hip. His pulse hikes up rapidly, going _thumpthumpthump_ in his throat. "Might as well, since apparently I'm loaning you all my clothes too."

Ah, the jeans. He's just touching the jeans.

Which begs the question, why does Wally have on so many of Roy's clothes?

"Get jeans that are less nice if you don't want me stealing them," Wally manages weakly. "True Religion, yanno? I like the cut."

"Moocher," Roy teases.

"You're the one who offered."

"I did, didn't I? Which reminds me, you'll probably want to see your new room."

Wally slowly nods before what Roy says fully permeates into his brain.

"Roy?"

"Yeah?"

"You only have one room." And one bed, but why make things any more awkward?

"Wow, Wally. Y'know, in the three years I've lived here before you came along, that fact completely escaped my notice."

Wally is too anxious to find much humor in Roy's sarcasm, however.

"Your couch folds out," he points out uncertainly. That was kinda Wally's plan when he asked to crash with him in the first place. Because he's never considered—

"That's for guests."

That Roy just might—

"But ah… aren't I a guest?"

"No," Roy corrects mildly. "You live here."

And he kinda wishes he hadn't because…

"Oh."

_Oh._

Looking back it should've been a bit obvious, huh?

Roy was always paying for his food, always letting him come by weekends at a moment's notice. Hell, Roy taught him to drive stick-shift using his own car. (Not that they would ever repeat that incident.)

_But_.

Wally's spent literally his entire high school years in equal parts idolizing and lusting after Roy. Roy, his Ridiculously-Hot-Yet-Unattainable Best Friend. Roy, who is _tall_ and strong shouldered and always has this steady way of _looking _at him, that cool-eyed glance that says, _You're not fooling me_.

Like that. Like right now. Wally bites his lip and avoids his eyes.

"Is that okay?" Roy asks slowly. He sounds a little unsure, despite his square gaze on Wally's face. "Because I can…"

Wally's certain that Roy knows Wally likes him. There's no point in denying it.

"No. I mean. No, that's great. I'm just…"

Wally just doesn't know what to say. The idea of Roy liking _him_ is going against five straight years of mental conditioning here. He looks up at him hesitantly.

"Are you technically asking me…?"

"Yeah. Do you mind?"

Well, they're already living together. That realization is like something exploding in Wally's stomach. Not quite butterflies; more like someone took the cap off a giant, pressurized bottle of 7-Up and let the sizzling foam fill him to the brim. Wally meets his eyes and grins, head buzzing with energy.

"No. Totally don't mind."

When Roy smiles, something in Wally responds, thudding. Hyper-aware.

"Good," Roy says smugly. "Does that mean I can ravish you on the kitchen counter now?"

The laugh that bursts its way out of Wally is startling, tension broken. Because this isn't weird at all.

"Is this why they called you Speedy?" Wally grins at how easily this comes to them. "We haven't even had our first date yet, and already I'm moving in, and you're asking to have kinky kitchen sex."

"We do everything out of order, don't we?" Roy sounds absolutely shameless.

"You move fast, you mean."

"This _is_ me going slow," Roy replies. "You're oblivious, and I've been waiting to ask you for over a year."

Wally's witticisms slow to a fraction of their reaction time. Just like that.

He stares up at Roy. Roy doesn't take it back, his eyes melting blue and challenging and _Yeah, now you know. _It takes a minute, but when Roy slowly tilts his head and leans down to kiss him, Wally leans up halfway, and—

Wow.

Wally's hands instantly lift and find their way into Roy's hair, as Roy's hands slide under his shirt.

_Wow_.

* * *

><p>::<p>

_present day_

::

* * *

><p>"... <em>well <em>I'm gonna be going out this afternoon," Artemis says, cradling the phone against her shoulder as she paints her toenails bright turquoise. "Sorry. You should text Wally about it. He'll probably want to help out."

_"Are you kidding?_" Dick cackles mirthfully over the phone line. "_Artemis, you_ are_ aware what day it is, right?"_

She inspects her foot critically, squinting in thought. "Tuesday?"

_"I'm guessing you haven't checked Facebook. Guess whose anniversary is today."_

She barks a laugh. "You're kidding. It's been a year?"

_"Yeah. Gorilla Grodd could be pummeling the Empire State Building to rubble right now and I can promise you. He's not gonna freaking text me back about it."_

"Jeez. Speaking from experience?"

"_Maybe_."

Artemis smirks. "How many times have you walked in on them, Dick?"

_"Enough to realize I'm going to be moving my couch to Bludhaven on my own."_

"You don't have a key to their apartment though." She frowns. "Don't tell me you're still breaking in through the windows?"

"_Not anymore."_

"What's that supposed to mean?"

_"It means that any flat surface in that apartment can be used to mentally scar me. And several walls." _Dick pauses. _"Try not to think about that when you visit."_

* * *

><p>AN: In my head, Dick and Artemis totally swap gossip over the phone. Dick's painting his own toenails on the other end, probably. Maybe. I love those two.

Dick. There is a reason people knock. Though, Roy and Wally would probably ignore it. Or just not stop.

... Those boys.

Next chapter, I'm gonna break my pattern and go chronological. And yeah, it's the anniversary chapter (: I had already written it out, but it didn't quite flow with the rest of this chapter. So. Gonna spruce it up and see you guys sometime next week. No promises, because I'm not the kind of updater who sticks to actual schedules. But if it's not complete I will have something else up (:

Read and review!

vivevoce


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I think I've taken the prompt of 'Roy and Wally share an apartment and this is what happens at 2 am' and pretty much stretched it to 'Roy and Wally live together and this is what happens. Lots of things happen.'

This... is almost three times the length of all the other chapters thus far. I have _no idea _how it got so out of hand, because this was just supposed to be their first year anniversary. It turned out to be practically a full-length story.

I had _way_ too much fun writing this.

Well. I promised, and if I do humbly say so, I think I delivered. Enjoy, everyone!

_I do not own Young Justice. Title is taken in part from_ _the song _505_ by the Arctic Monkeys. I love this song. Have it open while reading.  
><em>

* * *

><p><em><strong>2 AM<strong>_

* * *

><p><strong>VII.<strong>

**if it's a 7 hour flight or a 45 minute drive  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"Hey. Happy anniversary," Roy whispers. Wally opens first one eye, then the other, before he sluggishly rolls over to meet Roy's face.<p>

"Is it that time of year already?" Wally slurs, grinning.

"Yeah. 'M taking the day off." Roy strokes at Wally's hipbone as Wally tucks his head under Roy's chin. "Dinner at that new Thai restaurant tonight sound good?"

"Great," Wally yawns. "Gimme a minute to wake up, kay? …Shit, I didn't have time to get you anythin'."

"You've got the whole day," Roy says dismissively. "Fastest man alive, right?"

"That's the idea." Wally lies there idly, musing. After a comfortable silence, he says slowly, "Say, Roy. What's on your bucket list?"

"Me?" Roy has to give this some thought, knowing where this was leading. He smirks teasingly. "Scuba-diving in the Great Barrier Reef. Motorcycling over the Great Pyramids. Lunch at some side-street in Rome."

"Sex on the Eiffel Tower?"

Silence.

"You can _do _that?"

"There and back before noon, babe. Dunno about Australia, but we can do the Italy thing along the way."

Okay, so Roy didn't see this coming.

"Wow."

"_N'importe quoi pour vous," _Wally spouts flippantly.

"I took Spanish in high school."

"So did I." Wally smiles lazily before he kisses him, rolling the words against his jaw. "_Cualquier cosa por tí."_

The corner of Roy's mouth twitches. "Show off."

* * *

><p>"You were <em>serious?" <em>Roy's mouth hangs slack with awe.

"Why would I joke about this?" Wally asks, hauling his backpack over his shoulder. It's relatively light considering their supposed travel plans. "You're lucky Miss Martian lent us the bioship for the day. You were about to get piggybacked over the Atlantic." Wally looks approvingly at Roy over his sunglasses. "You look nice."

Roy still looks incredulous. "All I did for our anniversary was make dinner reservations at Beau Thai."

"We can still make it back in time for that!" Wally beams. "I wanted to make this special. Think of it like a vacation. We never get time off to ourselves, what with school and patrols and work."

"When you put it like that… No, I'm still never going to top this, am I?" Roy states bleakly.

"I don't need anything special, Roy," Wally casually dismisses. "I always wanted to go to Egypt anyway. We just fly right over it on missions. And hey, now you can finally teach me to ride a motorcycle."

"You're making it worse."

"Don't forget the sunscreen," Wally chirps.

"_Wally_."

"Not listening."

"You're going to literally _fly me to Europ_—"

"Quit comparing." Wally rolls his eyes. "I told you, I don't need anything special."

"What the hell, Wally."

"I'm serious. I don't know why everyone expects me to be so high maintenance. What's up with that?"

"But—"

"Oh shit, we're burning daylight here," Wally interrupts, glancing at his watch. "Gotta make up for the time differences in Europe. I need to ask Megan how fast the bioship goes, we usually pass Greenland in like an hour tops… Let's see, if it's nine in the morning here…"

"Wally." But he's already out the door, clutching his ridiculously light backpack. Passport, Roy remembers, swiping it up from the nightstand.

"Cut it any closer we might not be able to make it to Australia, Roy!"

Roy fights a smile before sighing.

* * *

><p>"What's with this thing?" Wally mutters tapping at his iPhone, trying to figure how much money they had to their name. "That's not the exchange rate for the euro."<p>

"How much are we supposed to tip in Italy?" Roy asks, chewing on the last slice of pizza capricciosa. (He will never look at Papa John's the same from this point on. No pizza will ever compare to this.)

"I don't know." Wally frowns, before polishing off his slice. He pauses to make a face that implies such decadence in a pizza should be illegal. "Oh my _god, _can we come here all the time?"

"Can we?" Roy grins, laying his hand on Wally's phone before pushing it into the tablecloth. "Relax. We can ask around and see how much." Roy doesn't take his hand away and Wally smiles lazily at him over the table. They take their time, kissing slow and languid.

When they pull away long enough to remember that they were supposed to be leaving, Roy glances over Wally's shoulder to see a waitress smiling demurely at them, before turning back to giggle with her friends in Sicilian. Italians were apparently more tolerant of homosexuality than he expected. Or it could just be the people in the bar.

"We should probably hurry to Paris, then," Wally remarks, smiling as he follows his gaze. "It's almost noon."

"It's eight at night right now," Roy says, checking his watch. It was one of those fancier models Ollie got him that automatically accounted for time zone differences, of which he was grateful. "Rome's eleven hours ahead."

"It's almost noon where we are. Flying here at Mach III took two hours, 'lunch' took another hour." Wally regards his phone earnestly. His eyes move with the candles' flames, flickering cat's-eye green. "I don't want to have to miss your dinner reservation."

It takes Roy about twenty milliseconds following that statement to realize he just fell for him again. Hard. "Yeah, okay," he manages instead.

It turns out that one doesn't really have to tip in Italy unless they liked the service. Needless to say, their waiters were going to love them.

* * *

><p>Wally gasps softly as Roy bites at his neck, fighting a burst of mad giggles. "It's cold up here."<p>

"What'd you expect?" Roy asks as he undoes the buttons on Wally's shirt. "It's night time at high altitude and you're leaning against metal."

"How… far… does that elevator come, huh?" It's with great effort that Roy tears away long enough to glance down and check the premises.

"Not this high up. I can't believe you ran us almost to the top."

"I'm gifted. Hey, keep your jacket on," Wally says, hands gripping him by the lapels. Roy can feel the individual points of heat his fingers give off through the leather. "It's cold."

"Then maybe you can warm us up," Roy's voice all but _purrs_.

"Whoa, I like what Paris does to you." Wally is happily occupied with Roy's collarbones for a while, before he peers up at him wickedly. "You know what warms people up really fast?"

"Besides the obvious?"

"Friction."

Found the zipper.

"Gonna show me my favorite speedster trick?"

"Yeah."

Such blatant abuse of the Speed Force would have greatly distressed the Flash, if he ever found out. Then again, uncle Barry was never going to hear about this unless some tourists below possessed some really, _really_ high magnitude lenses on their cameras.

La Ville De L'amour really lived up to its name.

* * *

><p>"Okay, hold on tight. You got your goggles?"<p>

"Yeah," Wally says nervously, strapping on the helmet. "Uhm, Roy, have you ever done anything like this before?"

"On ramps, over pyramids. Same difference, really."

"Oh."

"Hey, don't worry." Roy winks at him over his shoulder as he adjusts his gloves. "You're gonna be alright. The Eiffel Tower was twice this high."

"That's not... no."

"I'd be more concerned about sand getting in my eyes if I were you."

The moon lights a straight path up and over the great ruins. The tour guide had looked at them suspiciously, then nervously when they asked to rent a motorcycle as best as they knew how. (It's a good thing for them that the man knew English). The bike's not bad, Roy made sure of that when they rented it. Everything's in tip-top condition, because they were about to return it seriously mangled.

Wally stares apprehensively at the deep, sharp shadows the pyramids cast over the soft, undulating sands. Deceptively cushiony. Enough to break a fall?

"You're not going to fall."

He's been talking out loud. That's how nervous he is. "I'd better not."

"Better hang on then."

"Wai—_ahhhhhhhhhhhhh_!"

Roy is insane. He's in love with a lunatic. They speed up the slope, higher and higher and holy fuck this was _really_ _high_. Wally tightens his grip around Roy as the wind tears his hair back and numbs the exposed skin of his face and hands. He can barely look around them to appreciate the insane streaks of color as they rapidly ascend. The needle on the speedometer is straining too far to the right; they're almost vertical. His thighs take a death grip around Roy.

"Hang on!"

Wally's heart stops momentarily because _they are suspended in the air holy fuck he is going to die, this is nothing like running—_

But then he feels Roy swinging his torso and the bike follows the movement before—

_BAM. _The wheels crash back onto the solid stone foundations and they're speeding downwards uncontrollably, except they _are _controlled because the muscles in Roy's back bunch as he somehow maneuvers them straight. Wally thinks of roller coasters breaking loose from their railings and combines it with the terror of that one time Dick threw the both of them off a Gotham skyscraper hanging just by a grappling hook.

This is slightly worse, because there is no grappling hook, and the ground is coming to meet them like, _NOW_.

"_Whooooooooooooooooooohoo!_ YEAH!" Roy's wheels rip right through the sand like it's nothing, spinning it out on either side of them as he tears up the side of the next pyramid, laughing. Wally's scream of fear sounds suspiciously similar.

_I'm enjoying this_, Wally realizes, head pounding with the twenty or so gallons of adrenaline surging through his blood. _I'm enjoying this and Roy is insane and why am I laughing? I should be crying._

They roar up and down, u p p p p p and d o w n n n n, taking the last two the same way they did the first. When Roy comes to a stop (_finally_) Wally all but topples over into the dunes.

"_You… better… have… enjoyed that,_" Wally gasps weakly, heart hammering in an extremely unhealthy fashion.

"Hell yeah," Roy grins, hair as wild as his eyes in spite of the helmet. He puts out the kickstand and falls onto the sand next to him. "You were great. Didn't black out at any time?"

"No." Blacking out would've meant letting go, which would've meant dying. "You… _howdidyoudothat_?"

"Magic. You're not the only talented one."

"Kay." Wally trails off. "I think I lost three years off my life."

"You enjoyed that."

"I don't know. Did I?"

"Mm. I know I did."

"Then that's all that counts," Wally says sarcastically. Roy shoulders him affectionately and Wally concentrates on slowing his pulse.

* * *

><p>The flight back is quiet as Wally sleeps with his head in Roy's lap. Roy is technically doing the flying, though mostly he just watches to make sure they don't veer off course. The ship takes care of the rest. It was even accommodating enough to fashion the usual seats into a long chaise lounge.<p>

Wally shuffles a little in his sleep and one hand curls toward the floor. It's technically five in the afternoon, but where they just came back from it was three in the morning. Roy runs his hand through Wally's hair, watching as the sky lightens in slight increments over the black sea before setting again. The waters turn inky blue, then cerulean. The sun touches down on a watery horizon. He settles Wally's hand back onto the couch.

* * *

><p>"Table for two," Roy says to the maître d'. "Harper."<p>

Wally is still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as they sit down. They'd had just enough time to change into their formal clothes before rushing out; they'll have the bioship back to Mgann by tomorrow. Roy can hardly believe that they had just been on the other side of the globe a few hours ago.

"Sorry we couldn't make it to Australia," Wally says, leaning his cheek into the heel of his hand. He yawns, before smiling sheepishly up at him.

"Shut up, Wally," Roy deadpans.

Wally smirks. "That's not nice."

Roy ignores him. "You literally borrowed the Martian equivalent of a private _jet_ to fly me across the world today. You fulfilled two thirds of my bucket list, and then some, before I reached the age of twenty two. I don't even have words for this."

"How about 'I love you, Wally, you're the best thing that ever happened to me and I'm going to treat you so good from this moment on?'"

"That's a given." Roy hesitates. "Look, not to look a gift horse in the mouth, because this… God, this was the best day of my life. But, why'd you do all this?"

"Why do you think?" Wally laughs. "Or do I have to remind you what day it is?"

"No…You could've just stayed in, or bought me roses or something for our anniversary."

"Roy, cmon, this didn't even make that much of a dent in my wallet—"

"Wally." Roy looks at him seriously. Wally shuts up. "Why did you go through all this trouble? Not that I'm comparing gifts with you or whatever. Just… I want to know."

Wally looks at him unabashedly before sobering up.

"I… guess I just really care about you, Roy." He hesitates, as if to come up with more reasons. "…Yeah, no, that's pretty much it."

"You do this for _everyone_ you care about?"

"Well, no, because normally I just fly total strangers to Italy and then ride up the side of a pyramid for the kicks."

"Without sarcasm," Roy reproves, before his face softens in that way it does only around him.

Wally looks at him impassively. "If you want, you can watch the ending of a chick flick and save me the trouble of elaborating."

"Wally."

"I mean it. Look, I put this much effort in because I _could_." Wally looks at him firmly. "It's not like you don't meet me halfway. I'm not crazy, and you're not taking advantage of me, so quit thinking that. You… do a lot for me, and you'd do more. That's all there is to it."

"I…" How is he supposed to follow that? "I think I love you," he finishes numbly.

"I know." Wally smiles, before taking in the stricken look on Roy's face. He adds on a little hesitantly, "If it helps, you can think of this as a kind of thank-you for taking me in, and feeding me, and saving my ass on numerable accounts..."

Roy stares at him for a long time before sighing, when the waiter comes by to take their orders. (_Tom Yam Goong for two, please. Just tea. No, that'll be all._)

"Tell you what," Wally suggests over their food. "Next year, we can just stay in and watch shitty B-horrors all night long. We'll eat Nutella strawberries and drink our weight in ten-dollar champagne."

"Don't even try that with me." Roy smiles at him ruefully. "Next year I'm strong-arming Ollie into a private cruise ship bound for Bora-Bora."

Wally looks momentarily delighted before his face scrunches up in realization. "... Wait, you don't have to—"

"Yeah. I do." Roy swigs down his drink and sets the glass decisively onto the table. "Your birthday's coming up too."

"I think you've already got that covered."

"Don't be a sap."

"Shitty movies in our apartment?" Wally tries.

"Bucket list. Now."

* * *

><p>AN: Hmm, I feel kind of like Roy at the moment. I don't know how I'm going to top this chapter.

Dammit Wally, why. Why are you cute and crazy and why do you make me suffer willing lapses of judgment? This is like the climax in a story that wasn't suppose to have a plot.

(Who does this for a one-year anniversary, anyway?)

Fret not, this story will continue. Just don't expect any exotic escapades later on ;)

If anyone is curious, Wally actually wasn't lying. The costs of this, taking into account foreign exchange rates, would probably add up to... under $60, believe it or not. All Wally really paid for were the pizzas and renting the motorcycle; which is cheaper renting by the day in Egypt, I imagine, than it would be in the US. He probably came back and gave a giant, bone-shattering hug to Mgann for the bioship, though.

Mach III is how fast the fastest planes go (three times the speed of sound, or 2220 mph) and Martian planes probably kick Earth planes' asses. With it, it was possible to fly over 4000 miles to Europe and back within a day. Roy's right. That's like casually lending someone your private, state-of-the-art jet.

Aaand Mgann is forever lovable.

Read and review!

vivevoce


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